


That Room

by lucifersbff



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, angst everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 10:21:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8840875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifersbff/pseuds/lucifersbff
Summary: Percival Graves actually had a family. Before Grindelwald took his identity and before Newt came to New York but no-one really remembers them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I saw something about this on Tumblr I'm pretty sure. I can't really remember but it inspired me and then this happened. I probably have no idea what I'm doing but I needed something to do. So enjoy. Feel free to criticise at your own free will.

There is a room, in his empty house, that no-one dares tread. Including himself. He would much rather it remained locked and forgotten then visited frequently. In fact he never travels up the stairs, he never passes the door to go to the bathroom. No instead he’ll apparate there.

Most of his nights he spends sat beneath the room on his favourite arm chair with a small glass of Fire-Whisky. He would never admit that after completing the bottle he tends to stand at the bottle of the stairs. He just stands there looking up into the black abyss.

_He should move_ , he heard a voice in his head once say. It wasn’t his own, no it was warmer. It was a refreshing feminine voice that made him smile. That made everything seem better. It was only ever there for a short period of time, after once sentence it would disappear and he’d find himself hearing his cold distant subconscious.

After a while of the same routine after work, he caught himself staying at the office. Burying himself in his investigations and rarely sleeping. He found himself seeing hallucinations throughout the day, a side effect from the lack of sleep or perhaps his sanity being lost. He was never too sure, he was never sure of anything recently.

Everywhere he looked he could see the face of Gellert Grindelwald. He could see the blonde poking his mad head around the corner of every street. See the face looking at him in the mirror, see him when he closed his eyes. He could see the images clearly, the scenes acting on their own. He was defenceless as he continued to play them out.

_There was nothing he could have done_ , he told himself. The president had told him that the day after he had found out. She had reassured him that Grindelwald would be found, that she would personally sentence him to death. He knew she was lying, she wouldn’t find him herself. She didn’t do those things, she held an important position in the MACUSA. Menial tasks of finding criminals was his job. His job alone.

Each report he read. Each article he saw was down to Grindelwald’s fanatics. It was a taunt, he was taunting him. Showing him he was smarter, he was the better wizard. A trap Grindelwald had spread out ready to catch him. Alas he found himself falling for it every time. His reactions more and more feral.

Queenie, a legilimen who manned a desk, she knew his thoughts. His desire to see justice brought down upon Grindelwald. To watch Grindelwald burn in his spot and see his fanatics scurry away like cockroaches. He wanted to break the chain of command, he wanted to ensure that no-one would go through what he had.

Porpentina had been told, of course she had. Queenie was likely to tell her as soon as she found out. Her efforts had fallen where they stood as he sharply snapped at her. He told her that _Queenie was wrong,_ that Queenie had seen something in his mind due to other events. She soon retreated back into a shell. She was threatened by him and that was the way he wanted things. He wanted the fear in others to deter them from stopping him.

He watched a group of fanatics from afar as he sat in the Blind Pig. Gnarlak stared at him with a disgusted look from across the room but he ignored it. He didn’t care, he wasn’t here as an MACUSA Auror, he was here as a man seeking revenge. He wasn’t going to arrest anyone.

Eventually the group’s ringleader exited the speakeasy and he found his time to strike. His movements halted as he heard the voice in his head again. The same warm one that he used to greet lovingly at the door to his home, the one that could settle him after a particularly stress filled day at work. _Not tonight, go home Percival Please._

So he went home, he sat in his chair and he drank himself into a sleep. The following morning he read about the deaths in the paper. He answered the questions posed to him by the president herself and he was cleared. Though he had no idea what happened to the group he found himself smiling. He was happy they had met such a terrible fate, that the ring leader had been strung up outside a window, and the group members thrown across the streets and into the buildings, like some beast had run rapid on the street.

He returned home that evening, his fingers rubbing over the small key in his breast pocket. The rust had worn away the names on it, the engraving he had made especially for them. _Go look_. The voice warmed him more than the Fire-Whisky. It warmed him more than anything in the world.

His feet fell silent halfway up the stairs. His legs shaking and his gaze faltering as his memories returned. The first time he had walked up these stairs, the last time he had walked them and seen the bodies. Had seen the blood, the magical burn marks strewn across the room. He blinked away the tears as he forced himself to continue. He could turn back. He knew that. _Don’t_. He could return to the couch. _Don’t_.

He leaned his ear against the cold, chipped, and forgotten door. The silence unending on the opposite side, the air still as he twirled the key. It was searing into his skin as he closed his eyes. The door beneath his ear rattling as a sudden wind blew through the house.

_Open it Percival_ , the voice asked him. It was as though she were with him. As though she were actually in the house and not just a distant memory. As though the past three years hadn’t been hell, and he hadn’t been alone. _Help me; open the door_.

He twisted the key in the lock, a satisfying click announcing it had unlocked successfully. He hesitated with his hand above the handle. Just one push and the door would open, just one thing separated him from the room. _The door_. He was moving on his own, the door opening as he closed his eyes and inhaled. He could smell the sweet scent of honey, the comforting air surrounding him; dragging him deeper into it. His eyes still closed, he felt his feet move.

He was scared, frightened even. If he opened his eyes, he was unsure what would greet him. Whether it be the dark abyss or whether it be the bright room that was always full of giggles and stories. His eyes opened slowly, his mind racing as he took in the room.

The lilac wallpaper that held dark purple flowers surrounded the room. Encased it in a summery feel. The wooden frame in the corner covered in a soft fabric. The legs snapped as though someone tried to stop someone hiding under it. The wardrobe tipped to the ground allowing him to see the scorch marks. The dried deep red painted the wallpaper.

_Don’t._ He felt the tear fall down his cheek before he could recognise it. He remembered the first time the room was filled. Her smile seemed to brighten it, seemed to brighten the whole world to him. It was not like now, where he only saw the monochrome colours.

He remembered the day clearly. He had been so late to return from the office. He had sent her a letter explaining the case. They had just received news of the dark wizard, they had just started to see his chaos that had spread. He was determined, he was happy. He believed he could find him, he had found him. In the Blind Pig earlier that morning, he had spotted the blonde wizard; had seen the devilish glint in his eyes as he approached. Soon after he had disappeared and he returned to the office.

He had had a strange feeling in his gut that day, it only intensified that afternoon. Even when he had received the letter back that told him about the gift he was to receive upon returning home. He had read with such a caring heart the words written down in the enlarged handwriting. The words that made him a better man. _My daddy is the best daddy in the hole world_. The spelling mistake made him chuckle as he took his quill and wrote back. He never received a response.

_What a pretty little wife you had and you daughter, she would have grown to be a looker_. The voice was chilling, it wrapped around his throat in a tight noose as he heard it. The room dropped a few degrees when he turned around. He saw the blonde male, he sadistic smile etched across his dark features. Just the same as ever.

His blood burned in his veins as a white hot rage fuelled him. His wand had been drawn within an instant as the two swapped charm after spell. The lights illuminating the room even as the night progressed. He was sure some No-Maj’s would see the funny lighting and be intrigued. He hoped not too intrigued.

_Give it up, how can you think of besting me_. The voice called to him, a guttural snort following it as Grindelwald effortlessly deflected each spell. His dark eyes fixed momentarily on the blonde as his free hand lifted the cupboard and flew it across the room. Another deflection from the blonde had him flying through the window.

His back hit the ground as his wand flew away from him. His vision blurred as he attempted to control his conscious state. The world was darkening around him and all he could see was the blonde apparating beside him. The bony fingers lifting his ebony wand from the cobbles beside him.

_See what I was saying. Your wife had the same reaction. If she hadn’t maybe they’d both be alive_. The cold voice ripped through the air. His wife. His daughter. He pictured them before they had died. Before this had all happened. His daughter’s flowing brown hair and kind brown eyes. His wife’s brilliant green eyes that were always so caring. Her long black hair which she effortlessly pulled back into a tight knot. Her wand sticking out. How many times had he told her not to do that with her wand? He couldn’t remember telling her how beautiful it made her look. How lucky he was to have her.

_I am going to need your wand, oh and your identity. I think I'll enjoy being Percival Graves._ Grindelwald smirked as his eyes went dark. His vision lost in the abyss.


End file.
